


The Help

by esompthin



Series: 100 verse [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Collars, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, the idea is kinda creepy guys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-10-28 05:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10825137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esompthin/pseuds/esompthin
Summary: Angels are the cool new pet of the year! What makes them so much greater than any cat or dog? They double as your own personal servant! You'll never be in need of help again!That's a load of bullshit if you ask Dean. He was never going to get an angel. He didn't care for help. That is, until an angel needed his.(#13 of 100FfF)





	1. Chapter 1

Dean rolled his neck slowly, feeling the tight muscles stretch in the late morning light. His coffee in one hand and a donut in the other, he made his way into his living room. Sitting down heavily on the couch, he turned on his TV for the morning news. A commercial was playing of an elderly man in a wheelchair who was talking to the camera.

"Life has gotten a bit harder recently. The truth is, I just can't do the things I need to anymore. My children were concerned for my well-being. So they got me my very own angel."

Dean snorted as the next few shots were of the man being fed, cared for, and helped by an attractive young angel. The elderly man smiled at the angel thankfully and then said to the camera, "You can have an easier life, too! With your very own-"

Dean changed the channel. He wasn't one for the whole "angel" thing. Something about it just rubbed him the wrong way. An entire population of creatures that just need work to survive? That made no sense to Dean. But the advertising for it was everywhere. Sure enough, as he flicked the next channel another commercial played.

"Hi! I'm Dick Roman, CEO of Angels Inc. Some people have been concerned for the health and safety of our angels. But I assure you, the angels only need one thing to live a happy and healthy life. Your work!"

Dean changed the channel again.

"Hey, Dad, can I go to Jackson's party tonight?" A young girl in skimpy clothes asked.

The dad looked her up and down, "Dressed like that?"

"Don't worry, Dad, I'm taking our angel with us!" The girl said cheerfully, dragging a slightly confused looking angel towards the door. Dean almost felt sorry for the creature. It clearly wasn't sure what it should be doing.

The dad smiled, "Oh! Then, go have fun, darling. And, Samandriel!"

The angel turned to look at him, relief washing over his expression as he waited orders.

"Keep her safe."

Dean turned off the TV.

Call him old-fashioned, but Dean was the only one he knew that didn't have an angel. Hell, even his little brother, Sam, had one. Dean had to listen as Sam talked about how great he was; he practically singed his angel's praise,

"Oh, Dean, he's so considerate!"

"He's smart too, learns from what I tell him and does things without having to be reminded!"

"I have never been so relaxed before, it's all because of Gabe!"

Dean still didn't like it. The whole thing just seemed too, well, creepy. And besides, he didn't need anyone to wipe his ass for him. He was a capable, grown man who could take care of himself.

Part of taking care of himself meant that he had work to get ready for. So he drowned his opinions of the world's newest and most popular pet in coffee and set out to take a shower.

Dean has two jobs. One as a waiter at a high-end fancy restaurant. He has to wear a suit when he waits these people. It's ridiculous. And the other is working at a dirty little bar with his brother. He could survive perfectly fine on just working as a waiter; the restaurant throws money at him to flirt with old millionaires. But he liked working at the bar. The customers were far more enjoyable than the snobby rich people that flocked to _Le Paradis du Ciel_. Seriously. If your restaurant's name has to be in French to sound interesting, you're trying too hard.

Sadly, he wasn't working at the bar today. No, instead he gets to spend a wondrously awful nine hours serving people who were born into their money.

He didn't expect it to go well.

* * *

The creepy thing about angels, is how they act when they aren't given a task. Dean started his shift welcomed to the sight of thirty or so angels, scattered around the large dining area, standing stone-still. None of them were so much as blinking. The things stood directly behind their owner's chair and just _froze_ until they were needed. It creeped the ever-loving _fuck_ outta Dean. And it made waiting tables a hell of a lot harder.

Dean had to duck under large wings and step around unmovable bodies, having no idea if he was about to run into someone doing the same thing. Jo had crashed into Ash because they were both trying to skitter around an immovable mountain of feathers. It was easier when there was only one or two angels around. But now people brought them everywhere, and it was damn-near impossible for Dean to do his job.

Getting frustrated, Dean side-stepped around one angel, just to run into another. He spilt a tray-full of expensive wine down the angel's white Roman toga-y thing. Dean has only ever seen the angels all wear the same thing. These long, flowing white dresses that make them look more, well, angelic. Crowley, the manager, was there in an instant. Hissing at Dean furiously.

"Are you _kidding_ me, Winchester!? This is the ambassador of _Dubai's_ angel!"

Of course it is.

Crowley turned to the man, completely polite and apologetic, "I am extremely sorry for my employee's incompetence. I will make it up to you in every way possible."

Dean was on the floor, picking up the broken glass and wiping up the spilt wine. The ambassador snorted when he looked down at Dean. "At least he knows his place."

Crowley laughed far too loudly to be genuine, and he said, "That's a good one, sir. I am, once again, terribly sorry for his mistake."

The ambassador pulled Crowley closer, "It is no trouble. But, if I may, my angel would _never_ make such a foolish error."

"I'm sure, sir." Crowley glanced at the angel, that didn't even seem to be upset about the large, ugly stain on its dress. It didn't move except to flick it's gaze down briefly to observe Dean on his knees. "It looks top-of-the-line."

"The best money can buy." The ambassador agreed. "Michael."

The angel turned, almost robotically, towards its owner. It tilted its head, awaiting a task.

"Fix this _boy's_ mistake." It didn't matter that Dean was standing now and that the mess was cleaned up. The angel took one look at him and his cold eyes flashed blue for just a moment.

Getting frustrated, Dean side-stepped around one angel - and paused. He glanced down at the tray of wine in his arm, unspilled. Michael stood, not even breathing, as Dean looked him up and down. His white robes were just that, white.

"What's the _delay,_ Winchester?" Crowley hissed in his ear, "That's the ambassador of Dubai you've got waiting!"

"Sorry, sir." Dean mumbled as he carefully stepped around Michael and placed the glasses of wine on the table. After he made sure everything was alright, he stepped away to his next table. But for a second, he thought he saw Michael wink.

Throughout the night, Dean couldn't help but overhear Crowley talking to the ambassador. The two were becoming quite chummy, it seemed.

"I was just thinking, Mr. Crowley, my angel could do a far better job waiting tables than your employees could." The ambassador said, waving his hands dismissively.

Crowley raised an eyebrow, "Is that so?"

"Of course! No mess, no waiting. And-" The embassador smiled up at him, "No paychecks!"

Dean could tell _that_ peaked Crowley's interest. He often complained about how much he had to pay Dean and the others. It probably shouldn't've been a surprise when Crowley told all the waiters - twelve in total - the news the following weekend.

"You're all fired!" Crowley announced cheerfully.

"You've got to be kidding me." One girl yelled. "I've been working here for _years_!"

"And it's no surprise you haven't tried to move up in the world any." Crowley replied dryly. "Now, you'll all be replaced by my own personal angels. I've already made the order and they'll be shipped in by the morning. Goodbye."

The man started to walk away, leaving the former waiters to complain together. Dean chased after him, grabbing his arm. "Crowley, you can't be serious."

"As cancer." Crowley replied, turning to look at Dean, "Look, Squirrel, I know we've had our fun, but it's time for an upgrade. What's better than the perfect workers that don't need to be paid?"

Dean couldn't really argue with that, but he was sure going to try, "But, what are we supposed to do?"

"Find a new job. Work the corner of a dirty street. File bankruptcy. I don't care." Crowley said, "Besides, don't you have that family business, with your brother?"

* * *

The bar, named John's Pub, was their father's. He gave it to Sam shortly before he passed away, while Dean got a classic car that their father adored. Sam couldn't sell it, almost didn't want to, and it really wasn't enough to keep them afloat. Aside from old truckers and family friends, it doesn't really get much business.

So when Dean walked in to find Gabriel, Sam's angel, behind the bar, he wasn't exactly excited.

"Sam!" Dean yelled. He didn't feel bad about it, considering that the place was empty. Sam came around from the back, wiping his hands on his apron.

"Hey, Dean!" Sam smiled. "Why aren't you at home? Didn't your shift just end?"

"Yeah, I got fired. What's he doing here?" Dean pointed towards the angel that was watching the brothers. He perked up when Sam looked at him, almost like a puppy.

"Gabe's helping." His brother shrugged. Those two words made the angel practically glow with warmth. Maybe the things really were meant to survive on just labor and praise?

Dean jumped up on the bar, swinging his legs, "This place doesn't _need_ help. You don't have to bring your pet to work with you."

Sam frowns, "Yeah, but I want to. Gabe can man the register while I cook and serve. And what if I have to step out for a sec and someone comes in? And it's not like he costs any money."

Dean's blood boiled, his cheeks turned red with anger, "Yeah, I know, that's why I lost my job."

The younger Winchester blinked in surprise, "Really?"

"Yes, really. Angels stole my job." Dean glared at Gabe, who only blinked in reply. Dean swung his legs around and leaped behind the bar, searching for some good scotch. He swatted at the angel's wings, so he could see his options. Gabe looked to Sam for orders, but was ignored.

"That's not really the angels' fault, Dean. That's Crowley's." Sam hesitated, then added, "And I thought you didn't like that job, anyway."

He got a bitchface from behind a bottle as Dean continued his search. Eventually, he found what he wanted, standing up. "Yeah, well, paid the bills better than this shack ever will."

Sam sighed as Dean pushed past him, "I'll start takin' more shifts tomorrow. Just, make sure _that_ isn't here when I'm on the clock."

Gabriel shrunk back at the tone that was directed towards him. His wings curled against him and he looked over to Sam frantically. Dean ignored the disapproving look he got from Sam, and pushed out the door and into the night. The bar wasn't far from Dean's apartment. He started drinking before his foot was even out the door. The booze burned his throat on the way down, and warmed his insides. He was slightly buzzed when he passed an alleyway.

There was a scratching noise as something scrambled into the shadows. Dean stopped and peered into the dark, wondering if it was a rat or a hobo. He was about to shrug and keep walking, when he heard a whimpering noise. There were sirens in the distance, but since he lived in the big city, that wasn't much of an oddity. Dean stumbled out of the way as a horde of cop cars raced past him; lights flashing. The alley whimpered again.

Dean fumbled with his phone until the flashlight setting turned on. He took a step into the alley, looking for a hurt dog or, worse, child. When his light found bloody feathers on the floor, he sincerely hoped to God it was a pigeon having a bad day.

Instead of an angry bird, he found a naked man with fear in his eyes. His lip was busted and his shoulder had a nasty gash in it. Dean's eyes trailed over the shoulder to the large, dark wings that were curled around him protectively.

Dean didn't like angels. But he wasn't an asshole. He almost called Sam, but putting the phone to his ear made the angel thrash around and that only aggravated his wounds more.

"Okay, okay." Dean said, slowly setting his phone down, face down, so the flashlight could shoot up like a Batman signal. He carefully stepped forward, lowering himself to be eye level with the angel on the ground.

The creature stared at him with such intense anxiety that Dean felt bad for what he was about to do. "I'm going to help you."

At the 'h' word, the angel simultaneously perked up and scrunched away. Dean held up his liquor, taking a small sip before pouring a gracious amount on the angel's shoulder. It screeched flapping its wings frantically and pushing Dean away with his hands and feet. Dean sat back, carefully setting his scotch down. That shit's expensive. No party fouls tonight.

The angel was gripping his shoulder, his fingers becoming bloody with how tightly he was clutching it. Dean huffed at him; "Do you _want_ it to become infected? Just heal it, then! I thought angels could do that!"

The creature looked down, ashamed, and Dean looked around for a moment, before making a brash decision. "Alright. Come on. You'll get eaten by rats out here. You're coming with me."

Large blue eyes widened even more as he glanced up to Dean. He appeared uneasy, but finally rose to his feet unsteadily. Dean, still crouching, felt heat rise to his cheeks. "You gotta get some fucking clothes on though."

The angel looked down at his body and shuddered heavily. Within a blink, there was a white robe around the creature's lean frame. Dean stood up and picked up his phone and booze. "Don't tell Sam about this."

He led the angel to his home, quick to duck into his apartment before his neighbors could see him with an angel. Dean started towards his bathroom, that's where he kept his first aid kit.

"Sit down." He called after himself. When he returned to the living room, the angel was sitting on the floor, on his knees, head bowed. Dean scowled, "I meant on the couch."

The angel's head whipped up, looking confused for just a second, before he scrambled to the couch. He sat uneasily, his feathers ruffled beyond compare. Dean sighed and sat down next to the creature.

He opened his first aid kit and got out some gauze and bandages. Turning to the angel's bad shoulder, he said, "Alright, let me see this thing."

The angel dissipated the top of his robe, leaving just a weird skirt. Dean ignored that to evaluate the shoulder. He lowered his hands in surprise. The shoulder was perfectly fine. Just a small scar leftover. Briefly, Dean wondered how drunk he really was.

Looking up at the angel, he noticed that the creature was mildly pleased with itself. "Did you just heal yourself?"

The angel shook its head.

"So, what, you weren't hurt to begin with?" Dean growled.

The angel shook its head again, more frantically.

"So how did it heal?" Dean asked, raising a single eyebrow.

The angel looked around for a second, before picking up a fork that Dean left on his coffee table. Dean watched as the angel very clearly held it up to himself. And then stab the utensil into the meat of his thigh. Dean shouted, jumping forward.

"Stop that!" He demanded, reaching for the fork.

The creature immediately dropped the fork and pushed back the fabric of his skirt. The wound was there, bleeding slightly. Dean muttered to himself about suicidal idiotic animalistic angels. Then, the fucker, picked up the fork again.

"Put that down!" Dean snapped. The angel very clearly lowered it. And then gestured to his wound again. Dean dragged his eyes down to the creature's thigh. The wound was healing before his very eyes. He blinked rapidly, thoughts racing. "Following orders… heals you?"

The angel nodded enthusiastically.

"So me telling you to sit down…" Dean said, more to himself than to the creature.

The angel nodded again, smiling shyly.

Dean scoffed, "Great, well, it's been nice knowing you." He stood up and wondered where he put that bottle of scotch. "You can leave now. Go back to your owner."

The angel hesitated, clearly torn between following the order and staying. His puppy dog eyes turned to Dean, his lip finding its way between his teeth.

"What?" Dean asked, not liking the look in its eye.

The creature put a hand to its neck, looking up at Dean pleadingly.

"I don't…" Dean blinked, confused, "What are you trying to say?"

He watched as the angel looked around the room and then pointed to the tv remote. Dean huffed and nodded. The creature fumbled with it for a moment before turning on the tv. Predictably, an angel commercial was playing. The creature jumped up and pointed at the angel on the screen.

Dean still was getting it. He looked between the creature by the couch and the one on his tv. The angel paused and then moved right up to the tv screen. When there was a close up of the actor angel's face, the creature flicked his wrist and the tv froze. Then, he turned to Dean and pointed directly at the angel on the screen's neck.

"What, his collar?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

The creature nodded excitedly. Then, turning off the tv, he lowered himself to the floor and pressed a hand to his neck, pouting his lip out.

"You're not owned." Dean realized. "You're a stray. I didn't even know there were stray angels."

The creature looked down at the ground, settling its hand in its lap. It closed its blue eyes and there was a slight _pop_ noise. Dean looked over to the coffee table between them and there, sitting innocently, was a red leather collar.

Dean looked at the creature, who was staring at the floor, waiting for Dean to make a decision.

"Oh, hell no." Dean said. "I'm not- I don't do this angel thing."

The angel started to visibly shake in its place. His wings were twice their normal size; feathers standing on end. Dean took a step back, his insides torn. Finally, he blamed his choice on the booze he had earlier.

"Fine. Whatever." Dean muttered.

The angel looked up at him, tears in his eyes. Dean picked up the collar, it was thick with many rungs in it. He'd seen people walking around with their angels on leashes. The thought brought bile to the back of his throat. The angel was watching him carefully, his mouth slightly agape. Dean stepped forward, kneeling down so he could lace the collar around the creature's neck. The angel frowned down, seemingly confused as to why its new master made its collar so loose. Meanwhile, Dean leaned back and looked at the golden label hanging at the center of the collar. Cursive letters shined back at him.

"Castiel?" Dean asked. The creature sat up straighter, ready for an order. "That's your name?"

The angel nodded.

Dean sighed long, and low. He looked up at the ceiling, wondering just how _stupid_ he had to be to let an _angel_ , the thing that made him more or less _jobless_ , into his home.

"Well, Castiel, do you know where I put my liquor? Because I'm gonna need some more of if I'm going to figure out what to do with you." Dean said, running a hand through his hair.

Castiel perked up, flashing away in a millisecond. He returned with a tall glass of scotch for Dean. Dean took it from him, slowly raising it to his lips, slightly suspicious.

Castiel practically beamed with warmth when Dean gave him a very begrudging, "Thanks."


	2. Chapter 2

With a deep sigh and another drink in his hand, Dean readied himself for bed. He was walking down the short but dark hallway to his room, when he heard shuffling behind him. Turning, he scowled at Castiel, who immediately shrunk back.

"What are you doing?" He asked. The angel tipped its head towards Dean's open bedroom door. Dean didn't even _want_ to think about the implications of that. "No, no. You stay out here while I sleep. You can… sit on the couch or something. You don't need sleep, right? I don't care. But you stay here."

Castiel looked slightly confused, and a bit thankful, as Dean closed the door behind him. God, Dean knew there was some underground shady stuff people did with their Angels in the bedroom. To think that Castiel _expected_ that is pretty fucking gross. Makes Dean wonder what kind of sick freak owned Castiel before him.

Dean tried to ignore the fact that there was a stray angel, that he _adopted,_ in his living room as he got underdressed and slid into bed.

He decided in the morning, he'd see if anyone wanted an angel for some quick cash. There was no way in hell he was keeping this thing.

* * *

He had to keep this thing.

Dean woke up the next morning to the smell of bacon. That's always promising.

Dean walked slowly through his small apartment, his blanket wrapped around himself and his eyes trying to blink away sleep. He yawned as he entered the kitchen. When he opened his eyes, he saw Castiel, standing still in the corner, eyes unblinking. Surprisingly, the kitchen was spotless and there was a small feast awaiting him on the table.

"Um," Dean said as he sat down, "thanks."

Castiel blinked at him, his wings fluttering rapidly. The creature appeared surprised, shocked, even, at Dean's simple gratitude. It nodded slowly and then returned to its statue-esque state.

Dean bit into some bacon, perfectly done, crunchy but with just enough chewy fat to add flavor. He eyed his guess suspiciously as he ate. Since he no longer worked at the stupid fancy restaurant, he didn't have anywhere to be until the nighttime bar hoppers found his acquaintance. So he ate slow.

When he finished he stood up, picking up his plate and turning to carry it to the dish washer. The angel stopped him, standing in front of him in the blink of an eye. He held out his hands, awaiting the dirty dishes. Dean scoffed and side-stepped him.

Cas appeared in front of him again. Dean frowned and for a second, the creature visibly flinched. When Dean just walked around him again, Castiel opened his eyes, tilting his head in confusion. It watched Dean as he loaded his dishes. It's gaze made Dean itchy. He didn't like the way it's wings were spreading out behind him. It made it look…. Bigger.

"Can you stop watching me?" Dean asked, huffing as he loaded more dishes. "I'm doing chores, it's not the fuckin' Olympics."

The wings snapped hard against the Angel's back. It looked away, dutifully fulfilling his request. Dean rolled his eyes and started the dishwasher.

Dean ran a hand through his greasy hair and started to head to his shower. He heard footsteps behind him. Honestly, he wasn't even surprised.

"I'm going to take a shower, now, Cas." He said. The footsteps continued. "You can't come with me."

There was a pause, and then a soft shuffle of feet. When Dean turned around, the creature still wasn't looking at him, but it appeared conflicted. Surely, he should follow Dean's order of 'no', but what if he needed help and Castiel wasn't there? Was he being bad by not being as helpful as possible? Surely, this was why Dean refused help. Because Castiel was so poor at it.

"Okay, alright. You can, uh," Dean thought for a second, before he shrugged and said, "dust. Or something. The kitchen looks great," Castiel, still averting his eyes, perked up at that, "so make the rest of the apartment look like that."

Before Dean disappeared into the bathroom, he was quick to add, "Except for the bathroom. Stay out of there while I'm showering."

Sam had told him a few times how Gabriel is incredibly literal. He knew he should probably be careful what he says or else Cas will come in while Dean is showering to clean the toilet.

Sighing, Dean closed the door behind him and started to strip down. Turning on the water, he stared at himself in the mirror. While the water warmed, he wondered who would take in an angel. Just about everyone, probably. But he'd rather it be someone he knows, considering it was a stray.

Sam already has one. Jo wouldn't want one since she lost her job to one. Charlie was an adamant Angel Rights activist, and would sell her signed Harry Potter collection before she got herself an angel. Dean didn't want to give Cas to Crowley, for obvious reasons.

His thoughts on the subject puttered out as he stepped in the shower.

He let the boiling hot water burn his skin because he liked his showers just a touch painful. By the time he was stepping back out into the steam, the apartment was very quiet. He waited a minute, getting dry and dressed, before he stepped out into the hall.

The first thing he noticed was the cheap tile where carpet used to be. The second thing he noticed, which probably should have been the first, was the oven sticking out of the wall in front of him.

Dean followed the pots and pans on the floor to the living room. Or where his living room used to be. In it's place was a kitchen with a couch in it. That's honestly what he was looking at here. His TV has disappeared from sight, the coffee table replaced with a normal dinner table. There were matching chairs seated in the corners. A cookbook sat in the center of the couch. A microwave hung from the ceiling fan.

"Castiel." Dean growled and the angel appeared before him instantly. When the creature saw his face, however, it's chipper mood disappeared into confused fear. What did he do wrong? His new master told him to make the other rooms like the kitchen. He thought he did a good job.

Dean rubbed his forehead, trying to ease the dull, thumping pain behind his eyes. "What the hell is this?"

Castiel looked around, in response, he picked up a cookbook entitled _Kitchen Delights!_ Dean grabbed the book and tossed it behind him. Castiel watched it land and then moved to pick it up. The human rolled his eyes and stopped him with a hand to his shoulder.

"Fix this." Dean demanded, "Put it back how you found it. I don't want a freakin' kitchen in my livingroom."

The angel blinked, tilted his head, squinted his eyes, and then finally snapped his fingers. The carpet returned, the various kitchen appliances disappeared and the TV was back. Dean sighed and reconsidered giving the thing away.

"I need a drink." He mumbled to himself. There was a fluttering noise and then a cold beer was being pressed against his hand. Dean scowled, "Not literally."

He hasn't resorted to day drinking yet.

Castiel only appeared more confused. He let go of the bottle and it disappeared before it hit the floor. Dean pushed himself past the angel and sat down on his couch, wanting nothing more than to watch some TV before going to work and then coming home and sleeping, just to do it all again tomorrow. Dammit.

Castiel moved to stand by the couch, staring straight ahead, awaiting orders. Dean was able to ignore him for a solid ten seconds before he huffed and waved his hand at him.

"Sit down or something, jesus, don't just stand there."

Surprisingly, Castiel's eyes hardened. He immediately dropped to his knees in front of Dean and tilted his head up to look at him that way. Dean jerked back, surprised at the sudden position. Castiel's eyes were distant, the kind of way they got whenever he was listening for the next command. Silent. Submissive. Willing.

That last part, Dean wasn't so sure about. He cleared his throat and looked back at the tv, "I meant on the couch."

The angel scrambled up next to him, sitting awkwardly still. His hands were in his lap, his eyes on his knees, his head bowed. Dean hated how stiff he looked.

"No, just, like," Dean waved his hand vaguely, "Relax. I'm not gonna hurt you or anything. You can take a break."

He could see the profile of Castiel's confused frown. How he blinked rapidly, his eyes never leaving the spot. Like these words didn't make sense to him. Slowly, the tension in his shoulders eased and his hands uncurled from fists. His wings still fluttered anxiously, but the rest of him appeared to be perfectly relaxed.

"That wasn't an order," Dean groaned, realizing that if the wings were wild, so was he. Just because he looked relaxed, didn't mean it was true. "Look, I just want to sit here and watch a shitty show about a hot doctor. I can't do that if you're being weird. So it'd be really helpful if you'd just chill."

It was like a switch being flicked off. As soon as Dean leant back against the couch, gaze turning back to the TV, Castiel's wings slumped. His head slowly pulled itself up, but not in an uncomfortable way. His body curved itself into the cushions of the couch and his eyes lidded peacefully. The angel was relaxed.

Dean watched him for a second, "Huh."

A soft smile, barely there, tugged at Castiel's lips. The peace was kept until an angel commercial came on. These things were more common than freakin' Geico commericals. At the first opening words from the CEO, Castiel immediately jerked forward, his eyes flying open and his wings flaring out.

Dean got a face full of feathers as the angel freaked out.

"Hey- hey- chill, it's just the TV, it's just-" Dean muttered as he swatted against a flapping wing, "Stop!"

Castiel sat still, but his eyes were still wide and he refused to look away from the screen as the man talked about how great angels are. Dean glanced from the TV to Cas and back again. That was certainly a violent reaction for a commercial. Dean hates them, too, but you don't see him trying to decapitate someone with his flailing limbs.

"What the hell was that about?" Dean asks as he turns off the TV. Cas blinks out of his shock and looks over at Dean. The angel deflates when he sees Dean's confused scowl. Looking back at the blank screen, the angels bites his lip. "What, you don't like seeing angels on TV? Dogs love seeing other dogs on TV."

He knew that sentence was probably racist (speciesist?) but he was still trying to figure out if Cas's wing gave him a concussion. The angel shot him a glare that made Dean snort, and Cas looked surprised by the reaction. It seemed like everything Dean did surprised Cas.

Dean looked back at the screen, "Was it the angel in the commercial? Did you know them?"

Cas hesitated and uncertainty shook his head. So it wasn't the angel.

"What about the guy? Dick Roman. He's the CEO of the angel thing, right? You know him?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

Begrudgingly, Cas nodded. Dean sat up, "You know Dick Roman?"

He nodded again.

"How!?" He lived in Hollywood or New York or something. Dick Roman is quite possibly the most powerful man on Earth right now, with his successful Angel Sales and Delivery career. There are rumors that he's met nearly all of the world leaders and has a very high say in what happens in the world. He technically owns all of the angels, even the ones that people bought. He's the walking embodiment of power. He's untouchable.

The fact that a lowly angel like Cas has met him truly astounds Dean.

In answer to Dean's question, Cas slowly touched his fingers to his color, looking away from Dean with shame in his eyes. Dean stared at him for a moment, not believing what the angel was telling him.

"You were Dick Roman's angel?" He had to clarify. Castiel nodded, his eyes still focused on the wall. Dean shook his head, "I don't believe it."

Cas huffed, but didn't seem surprised. He snapped his fingers and an old newspaper appeared in his hands. On the front page was a large picture of Roman standing at a podium. Dean leaned in and looked at the picture, and sure enough, standing a ways behind Roman, was a cluster of angels. Dean immediately recognized the one front in center. The dark wings that matched the wild hair, the long white toga and the carefully blank stare. That was Castiel, no doubt about that.

"You could have altered that." Dean said uncertainly. He didn't want this to be true. He wasn't fully sure why, but he really wanted Cas to be lying.

Cas rolled his eyes and stood up. His wings flapped slightly as he made sure Dean was watching him. Then he slowly turned around and snapped his fingers. Dean squeaked as his toga disappeared. His face grew bright red at the strong back muscles now in front of him. He tried not to, but his eyes darted down to get a look at that ass. What he saw made him stop and keep staring. Frowning, he reached forward, his fingers brushing over Cas's skin. The angel's wings shuddered above him, held out of his way.

Without looking away, Dean grabbed his phone from out of his pocket and called Sam. His brother picked up on the second ring.

"What's up?" Sam yawned, sounding tired. He must've been working late last night, which isn't uncommon.

Dean could see out of the corner of his eye Cas looking over his shoulder down at him. Cutting to the chase, he asked, "Does Gabriel have a brand on his ass?"

Sam was quiet for a moment, then, "I'm sorry, what?"

"Are there letters on Gabriel's asscheeks? And if so, what are they?" Dean spoke slowly like he was talking to a child, which only made Sam mad.

"No, Dean. He doesn't." Sam grumbled.

"Are you _sure_?" Dean asked, his fingers brushing over the letters on Cas's butt.

Sam sputtered, "Uh? Yeah? What, you want me to fucking look at my angel's ass? What's this about, Dean?"

Dean was getting impatient, but forced his voice to be calm. He knew if he got intense about this, Sam would just get suspicious. "It's just an important question I need answered. Please, does he have a branding on his ass?"

"Well, _I_ didn't put anything there, if that's what you thinking." Sam grumbled, but his voice was a bit further away. "This is so weird… Hey, Gabe? Can you get undressed for me? Don't look so eager, Jesus."

Dean held back a gag and tried not to think about what was happening.

"Turn around. Okay, thanks. Put your toga back on now." Sam's voice was a lot closer now as he said, "Well, I've just seen my angel's ass, and it's perfectly brand-less. Happy?"

"Thanks, Sammy." Dean said, lowering his hand and looking up into Cas's eyes.

"Was this just an elaborate prank to scar me for life?" Sam asked.

Dean wasn't listening anymore, though, "Yeah, bye, Sam."

He hung up to angry growling. Cas, thankfully, snapped his toga back into existence before turning around. Dean eventually found the strength to stand up and stare at Castiel in the eyes.

"You're branded." Dean stated the obvious. Cas nodded. "With Dick Roman's initials."

The angel winced and looked away. Dean reached forward and the creature immediately jumped out of the way, its wings flaring out wide. Dean could see the wild panic in his eyes, the fear that just an oncoming hand caused. Slowly, Dean lowered his hand, his face contorting into pity.

"Jesus, Cas…." Dean whispered, "What did he do to you?"

Cas looked down in shame, his wings curling in on himself, hiding himself from the world. Deep fury swirled in Dean's gut at the sight of the creature looking so small.

It was then Dean decided he had to keep this thing. No one else would understand how troubled Cas was. Hell, Dean didn't even know what happened. But to be branded in that way- to have someone's initials _burned_ into your skin like you're some kind of cattle? That's intense shit. And until Dean can help heal Cas a little, he's not going anywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

"You'll take care of me, I'll take care of you, no one starves and no one gets kicked out." Dean was saying, mostly to himself. The sight of Dick Roman's initials flashed in Dean's mind every time he blinked. "Deal?"

Cas squinted at him, raised a hand to his collar, and then slowly nodded. Clearly, the angel was confused about Dean's meaning, he was already owned by the man, after all. Dean huffed out a sigh, but considered that good enough.

"Okay, great." Dean scratched his head. He was still a bit shaken; his throat felt tight and dry. He wasn't sure if he would be able to get the dark thoughts out of his head. "Now what?"

The angel stared distrustfully at the TV. Dean chuckled, "Okay, no more TV for you. That's alright. What about movies? You ever seen any?"

Movies were a great distraction. Dean could easily sit peacefully for an hour and a half and get engrossed in a fictional world so he doesn't have to think about the scars on his angel's ass. He vaguely wondered why those scars were still there, but the wounds from when Dean first met Cas left no marks at all. Maybe there was some kind of tool, a weapon, that Roman used that hurt angels permanently. The thought made Dean sick.

Cas shook his head as Dean went over to his DVD selection. "Okay, sit down. Let's see, what's a good one…? How about  _Indiana Jones_?"

A flutter of wings was Cas's reply. Dean smiled and put it in. Then he sat down on the other side of the couch as the movie started. Cas still appeared hesitant.

"Don't worry. There's no commercials in movies. No angels at all in this one. You'll be okay." Dean clapped Cas's shoulder and the angel very slowly gave him a small smile. Dean quickly dropped his hand and looked back to the TV, fighting the warm feeling in his chest.

* * *

By the end of the movie, Dean figured he should be a productive adult and get his laundry done. His shirt for John's is dirty. So he lets Cas help him as he sorts his clothes and puts them in the washing machine. Once they're clean and dry, he figures Cas can continue helping with folding and hanging up clothes.

The angel seems very pleased with his work, clearly getting things done effectively is the creature's favorite pastime. While he paid attention to Indiana Jones, Dean wasn't too sure if he actually  _liked_ it. There was something in the back of Dean's mind that told him t he angel was only raptly watching the movie because Dean told him to do so.

Either way, they finished the laundry and then made a quick lunch.

"Here, you can eat some, too." Dean said as he handed Cas a sandwich. The angel stared at it, a question clear in his eyes. He reached for it, but Dean quickly tugged it back, "This isn't an order. You don't  _have_ to eat it. But if you want to, go for it."

Castiel hesitated, but eventually nodded. When he reached for the sandwich again, there was something more relaxed about his stance. Dean watched as he slowly nibbled on the bread. He kept his eyes low, aware of Dean's gaze on him.

Dean laughed when the angel's face lit up in genuine wonder and joy. He couldn't keep his eyes off Cas as he at the rest of the sandwich. It was like each bite was a new discovery. The fascination in the creature's expression was enough to earn Dean's smile. But he had to look away quickly when Cas licked his fingers, catching some mayo there.

"If you think ham and cheese is good, just wait until I cook us some burgers." Dean chuckled, stuffing his own sandwich in his mouth; only looking back when he was sure Cas had taken his fingers out of his mouth.

* * *

Things were rather quiet. Dean wasn't exactly sure what Cas was doing. He left him in the kitchen to fuck around with the request to not break anything. He knew that Cas would be able to fix anything he broke, but Dean would rather they skipped that step completely. Dean was sitting on the couch, relaxing, when he heard the sound of police sirens in the distance.

Now, he lives in a city. Sirens is not an uncommon background noise. What is uncommon is the sudden crash coming from the kitchen.

Dean's on his feet in seconds, running into the kitchen. Cas is scrambling, wings flapping wildly around as he tried to escape the room. Dean watched, hands up as Cas clawed his way up onto the fridge. He sat, curled up, on top of the kitchen appliance, shaking frantically.

"Cas?" Dean asked, stepping forward slowly. "Cas, what's wrong?"

Cas's gaze snapped to him and Dean realized in that moment why people considered angels animals. He was skittish, running purely on instinct, a need to get away from whatever was scaring him. Cas's wings snapped out, sweeping down to keep Dean at bay; like he wasn't entirely sure who was standing before him.

Dean took a step back. The look in Castiel's eyes scared him a bit. He spoke softly, trying to keep his voice calm. "Cas, it's me. It's Dean. Everything is alright. There's no one coming to hurt you. You're safe."

The police sirens faded away, and once they couldn't hear them anymore, the tension ebbed away from Cas's shoulders. Dean watched as the angel blinked rapidly; his breathing still uneven. Cas's eyes snapped to Dean as he stepped forward slowly. The wings stilled, the wild thrashing halting. Dean reached up, holding his arms out for the angel.

"Come down, Cas." Dean said, looking up at him, "I can't help you if you're on the fridge."

It was like catching a kid when they jumped into a pool. The angel put his full trust into Dean; reaching out for him, their eyes locked. It was only through preparation and the will of God that Dean didn't fall on his ass once he caught Cas. The angle curled up in his arms, practically making himself smaller. Dean took a second to catch his breath.

Two arms were looped around his neck, a wing was curled around his thigh, another was wrapped around his back, and a head was tucked under his chin. He was completely surrounded by the angel. And, despite the obvious fear still in Cas' shaking body, Dean kinda liked it.

"You wanna relax? You okay?" Dean whispered. Cas shook his head, "Okay, okay. What do you need?"

Cas slowly lifted his head, and touched his collar gently. His eyes were wet with unshed tears. Dean instinctively wanted to brush the tears away, but he knew the angel wouldn't appreciate the action.

"What? Work? You want to work?" Dean asked, frowning.

The angel nodded frantically.

"...Will that help?"

Cas nodded even more, clinging to Dean's shirt desperately. Part of Dean didn't want to make the guy work, after a panic attack. He should relax, take a bath, get a drink, or something. He shouldn't start doing chores. But Cas looked so hopeless, like this was the only thing in the world that would make him calm down.

So, Dean looked around his apartment, thinking of some chores they could do.

* * *

Dean went to work late and came home early. He was barely working, barely helping Sam out. He still didn't like that Gabe was there, but at least he angel actually did something, unlike himself. Dean was just worried about Cas. What if the guy got scared by the police sirens again? What if someone knocked on the door and he answered and got in trouble? What if he wanted to watch TV, but got a panic attack at the sight of Roman?

What if he needs Dean and he's not there?

He knows it's unfair to Sam. But he can't stop himself from rushing home as soon as he can. He just  _has_ to make sure his angel is okay.

Every time Dean comes home, as soon as he steps inside the door, Cas is by his side. Like the man was  _dying_  for Dean to come back. He relaxes at the sight of Dean, every damn time. And doesn't that just make something warm and fuzzy swarm in Dean's chest?

For the first time in a long time, he feels needed. He's always wanted to be needed. He loved when Sam needed him; when he was young and couldn't take care of himself. He liked when Lisa needed him; when she didn't have the time or energy to watch her son. And he likes right now; when Cas needs him. When he comes to stand by Dean's side, to make sure he's okay. To see if he needs any help.

Dean thinks Cas likes to be needed as well.

* * *

The sight that greeted Sam a few days later was not the one he was expected. He came to his brother's home prepared for an angry, drunk mess. Sure, Dean's gone to work at John's these past few nights. But each time he seemed distracted and snappy. Sam was just waiting for the emotional breakdown. He kept looking at his phone, late at night, wondering when the drunk sobbing will be on the other side.

He was not ready to see Dean vacuuming under his sofa. With an angel holding it above him.

"Dude, what the hell!?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

It's a good thing Dean wasn't the one holding the couch (not that he could, but still), because he would've dropped that shit the second Sam walked in. Dean's head whipped around so fast, he might've strained something. Cas blinked, unsurprised. He probably knew this was coming at some point. Can angels see into the future? That's a strange thought.

"Dude!" Sam repeated, staring at Cas incredulously.

"Uh, hey Sammy..." Dean said slowly as Cas turned off the vacuum. It seemed like the right thing to do; but Dean scowled at him. Cas shrunk away, lowering his eyes. That only made Dean frown more. The human directed his gaze to Sam, his voice not matching his angry eyes, "What's, uh, going on?"

Sam ran a hand down his face, "Who's your friend?"

Dean looked over to Cas with false innocence, "Oh, Cas? He's, just, uh, visiting."

The angel's wings grew restless at that and Dean had to quietly reassure him. Sam huffed out a soft laugh, "Right. Well. When were you going to tell me you bought an angel?"

"I didn't buy him." Dean grumbled, smoothing out Cas's toga for him.

"When were you going to tell me you  _stole_  an angel?" Sam corrected. "How'd you manage that, anyway?"

Dean groaned, ruffling Cas's hair, "Cas, buddy, will you put the vacuum away?"

Castiel was more than happy to obey as he nodded to Sam politely and pulled the vacuum out of the room, leaving the boys alone.

Once the angel was gone Dean approached Sam, lowering his voice to a harsh whisper, "I didn't steal him; he's a stray."

"There's no such thing as stray angels, Dean." Sam hissed back. Which was true. Cas is the only stray Dean had ever heard of. Angels just don't get thrown out. They're too expensive; too valuable. Angels are the reason why stray dogs and cats are on the rise. "Where'd you get him?"

"He  _is_  a stray. I found him hurt in an alley." Dean replied, glancing over his shoulder where Cas disappeared, "I'm helping him."

Sam snorted, "Angels help you, not the other way around."

A slight twinge of horror ran through Dean's body as he stared at his little brother. "Are you serious?"

Sam's eyebrow twitched in slight confusion before he shook it off, "Nevermind. But, Dean, this is a good thing!"

Dean took a slight step backward, still stuck on Sam's previous comment. "What do you mean?"

His little brother's face was lit up with warmth, "Dean, someone can finally take care of you!"

Neither one of them were surprised when Dean went into a tangent, "I don't need taken care of. I'm a grown-ass man, Sam! I don't need a fucking caretaker!"

It was true that Dean didn't have the best record with staying healthy or making good choices. But he's been on this rock for 26 years now, and he was still kicking. He didn't need some fucking angel to watch over him. He was just making sure Cas was alright. That's all this was.

Sam realized that Dean wouldn't admit to his own codependency, so he held up his hands, "Fine, whatever. But now Gabe has a friend!"

"Oh, no. Your rat with wings is not coming anywhere near Cas." Dean immediately said, shaking his head.

Sam scowled, "Why not?"

Because what if Gabe gets Cas in trouble somehow? What if there's a reason why there's no strays, other than people liking them so much? What if Gabe is some secret undercover angel, here to hunt Cas down? What if… what if?

"Dean, angels are very social creatures. And Gabe doesn't have any other angel friends. It's been making him depressed. He tries to be good and not let it show, but I can tell." Sam was saying, and to make his sob story any better, he was giving Dean his best Kicked Puppy eyes. "Just let them meet once. Please?"

Dean grumbled, he really didn't want this to happen. What if things went south? But after a few minutes of thinking, he figured that he trusted Sam to keep Gabe under control. Shuffling his feet childishly, he muttered, "Fine."

* * *

Two days later, Dean ran a hand through Cas's wings, fingers brushing over feathers. Cas shuddered, his cheeks turning pink, but pushed back into the touch. Dean straightened Cas' toga and pushed at Cas' hair. His hands were almost shaking, nervous energy zipping through him. He swallowed hard and then did it again.

Sam would be here soon.

Cas slowly reached up and grabbed Dean's wrist, halting his movements. Dean looked into the angel's eyes, he could see confusion resting in there. Dean took a deep breath. He hadn't told Cas yet.

"We're going to have company." Dean said quietly, looking away.

Cas's fingers tightened ever so slightly on Dean's wrist. But when Dean looked up at him, his expression hadn't changed any. Cas gave him a small nod, dropping Dean's wrist.

Dean could tell Cas was now on guard, and he hated that he did that to him. But he couldn't hide Cas away forever. Sam had already seen him. And yeah, Gabe is a stupid, mindless angel, but is he dangerous? To Cas?

They don't have a moment to worry about it anymore; there's a knock at the door.

Sighing, Dean steps away from his angel and goes to the door. He opens it to see Sam's smile, and a pie in his hands. At least there's one good side to this. Dean steps aside to let him in. A second later, Gabe follows through the doorway, looking around the new room.

Dean almost drops the pie Sam hands him when there's suddenly a scream. His head whips around to see Cas, staring at Gabe. A similar scream escapes Gabe's lips.

Panic rises in Dean's chest as Gabe dashes away from the humans, wings flapping and flaring out wildly. Cas's are no better, the two look like a pair of roosters about to fight. Their screeches and shrieks hurt Dean's ears. Dean shoots Sam a terrified look, but his brother misses it, too busy watching the scene before him.

Dean looks back and makes eye contact with Cas; who's positively beaming. It's only then that he realises, the angels aren't screaming in fear or anger. They're fucking squealing. Like teenage girls.

Gabe suddenly engulfs Cas in a tight hug. He's smaller than Dean's angel, but his wings are bigger. Cas scrunches down to accommodate for Gabe's height, his wings dropping lower so Gabe's can drape over his. They're squeals are now quiet hums, their eyes closed as they embrace each other.

"I told you it'd be fine." Sam said, his voice a bit breathless. Dean just shoots him a wide-eyed stare.

Eventually, the two humans go to the kitchen to heat up their pie and find some ice cream. When they return into the front room; the angels haven't moved. They still coo quietly, their fingers brushing over each other's.

"Do angels always react this way to each other?" Dean asked, taking a bite of his pie.

Sam shook his head, "Gabe has only ever been professional around other angels. They're always, like, on edge around each other. I've never seen two angels act like this."

Dean shakes his head as Cas buries his face in Gabe's neck; a small whimper rising from his hiding place. Gabe responds by tightening his wings and curling his voice into a soft tweet. They've lowered themselves down onto the floor, in a mess of wings, limbs, and togas.

"Wonder what they're saying." Sam said as he licked his spoon.

Dean shrugged, "Hell if I know. Do angels even have their own language?"

"I guess? Like how dogs bark and shit?" Sam turned away, heading into the livingroom. "Wanna watch something? Seems like they'll be like this for a while."

Sam was right. Two hours and a full pie later and the angels hadn't moved. Dean was starting to get worried. "You don't think they're, like, mating or something, right?"

His brother made a mildly disgusted noise, "I hope not. I'm not ready to be a grandad."

Dean huffed a laugh, still watching how the creatures were entangled with each other; looking into the other's eyes silently. They stopped cooing, but now they were gently touching each other's face; expressions twitching.

Sam looked at his watch, "but we have to get going. It's getting late."

The taller Winchester brother stepped forward, clapping his hands once, "Alright, Gabe. Let's go."

As he took another step closer, the angels suddenly reacted, snapping out of their trance. Gabe wrapped his arms tighter around Cas, twisting so he was in between him and the humans. He snarled, and Dean could've sworn he saw sharp flashes of canine teeth. Cas's wings flapped and his gaze was deadly from over Gabe's shoulder.

Dean quickly pulled Sam back, a spike of fear in his chest. These things were animals. They had to remember that.

"The fuc- Gabe!" Sam snapped, obviously trying to not seem too freaked out. " _Gabriel!_ "

Gabe flinched, a flash of realization blinked across his face. He relaxed and looked over his shoulder to Cas, who let out a small whimper. Slowly the smaller angel stood up and held out its hand. Cas allowed himself to be helped up. The two worked quickly, straightening each other's togas and fixing one another's hair and feathers. Cas's fingers brushed over Gabe's collar and hesitated. They looked back into one another's eyes.

"Gabriel?" Sam called, "We're leaving now."

Gabe didn't tear his gaze away from Cas as he nodded once.

Sam crossed his arms, "I think we should use your leash tonight."

Gabe flinched and finally looked away from Cas. His eyes darted from Sam to Dean and back again. Then he lowered his head and snapped his fingers. A dark chain leash appeared in his hand. He held it out to Sam, not looking up.

Dean glanced at Cas while Sam clipped the leash to Gabe's collar. The other angel's eyes were wide as he watched the actions. He looked over to Dean and flinched, looking away quickly. A dark feeling grew in Dean's chest.

He reached out to Sam, "Hey, don't like, punish him or anything. He was just protecting Cas."

"He doesn't have to protect him from me, though." Sam retorted as he tugged Gabe towards the door. Gabe kept his head low, his wings even lower. Cas let out a small whimpering noise as his angel friend passed him.

Dean quietly said goodbye as he closed the door behind him. He wasn't exactly sure about Sam's logic, but he wasn't in the mood to fight it.

"Do you want anything to eat?" He asked Cas. Cas didn't acknowledge him, looking out the window as Sam and Gabe walked off.

"They'll be back, you know." Dean said, "You'll get to see Gabe again."

Still nothing.

"Cas?"

"...Caaas?"

"Castiel!"

The angel jumped and quickly turned to look at him, his back rigid and his eyes low. Dean stepped forward and the angel flinched. Dean tried not to take that personally as he slowly carded his fingers through Cas' wings. It took a second, but then the angel relaxed against him, purring with each touch.

"You're not in trouble, buddy. You didn't do anything wrong. Neither did Gabe. You're okay." Dean whispered as his other hand wrapped around Cas' middle.

"Did you like having Gabe come over?" Dean asked quietly as he petted the creature.

Cas nodded, a dopey smile on his face, his cheeks pink.

"Okay. I'll make sure you get to see him often, then." Dean looked out the window, "That sound good?"

Cas nodded again, a happy wordless sound escaping his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think!


End file.
